


Riduur par Buir

by EclipseKuran



Series: White Fields of Mandalore [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack, Explosions, Gen, Humor, I gave up on the Mando'a, Integration AU, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mandalorian Empire, Wolffe is a SIMP, because why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28445157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseKuran/pseuds/EclipseKuran
Summary: (A drabble from Cin Vhetin)“Form a marriage bond with me.”
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Plo Koon & Ahsoka Tano, Plo Koon & CC-3636 | Wolffe, Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: White Fields of Mandalore [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809295
Comments: 40
Kudos: 596





	Riduur par Buir

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: Okay, there was so much Mando'a in this that it was ridiculous and I felt awful about making you all scroll up and down. Like, there was full on long sentences. Besides a few basic/common words, I translated everything to English and underlined it. So underlined stuff is actually Mando'a being spoken.

Perhaps Plo should have listened to Mace when he suggested taking a Knight or another Master with him as back up, but the Force told Plo otherwise, regardless of the predicament he had found himself in, he could not find himself regretting the lack of another. What was the bantha excrement Master Jinn always said? “It is the will of the Force?”

Perhaps, Plo would take one page out of his worthless book for once.

The blaring alarms and flashing red lights caused the youngling in his lap to screech in distress, burying her face into his robes to escape the affrontement to her sensitive montrals. She whined at the Keldor, as if he could make the noise stop, but he could only carefully place a clawed hand to her head.

“Be calm, little ‘Soka,” he spoke the words softly to soothe the distress tainting the Force, “All will be well soon.”

He could feel it.

Reaching for the comm unit, Plo set a wide, unfiltered broadcast for anyone to pick up, be it friend or foe. It would do no good if his distress signal was limited to the Republic with no members in range. He could only hope he would not run into any Sith, or that Mandalorians would be merciful.

Had he been alone, the Jedi Master would have taken his chances and accepted his fate to join the Force if it came down to it, but, with a youngling on the line, Plo felt he needed to do more to ensure survival.

“This is Jedi Master Plo Koon. My ship has been damaged and will explode in less than fifteen minutes. I have a youngling with me. I repeat, This is Jedi Master Plo Koon. My ship has been damaged and will explode in less than fifteen minutes. I have a youngling with me. We need help immediately.”

The male Keldor leaned back into his seat, rocking Ahsoka as he listened to the message broadcast on repeat. Despite the calm he felt, the emotional transference of Ahsoka’s distress frayed his nerves ever so slightly.

They will be fine. They will make it through and Ahsoka will grow up with sentients who care about her. She didn’t make it long enough for Plo to find only to be snuffed out by an unfortunately timed attack against a Jedi.

They would live.

He could feel it in the Force.

It had only been a little over five minutes later when their ship suddenly lurched, the alarms blaring an alternate warning of being caught in a tractor beam. Another thirty seconds found the ship pulled into a hangar, landing with a violent thud as the landing gear had not been placed. The ship was as good as destroyed, so Plo was unconcerned.

Rushing out of the seat with Ahsoka in his arms, Plo went to the door as he heard a language he could not understand. The words were sharp and irritated, likely curses given the tone and how they were spit out. It was no surprise to Plo, given that the door had been welded shut by a rather nasty shot during their daring escape.

Whoever was on the other side had immediately gotten to work trying to get the door open. It only needed to be open large enough for Ahsoka to fit through, that was all Plo cared about.

“If you could make the opening big enough for a four year old Togruta to fit, then that is all that matters,” Plo called from inside.

He hoped their rescuers spoke Basic.

There was some noise, likely discussion, but it was hard to hear over the plasma saw.

“Don’t be stupid, we’ll get you both out.” The voice was gruff, but Plo could hear the undertones of kindness in the man’s voice. Plo didn’t need the Force to tell him he was putting Ahsoka in good hands.

It was less than a few minutes later when they stopped the saw and peeled back the bottom corner of the durasteel door, making an opening big enough for Ahsoka to crawl through. Though he felt a semblance of worry - not for Ahsoka’s safety, but putting the girl in an unfamiliar environment with strangers she knew nothing of - Plo set his small charge down and encouraged her to crawl through the opening.

“You?” She was brave, but that didn’t stop the welling of tears in her eyes. She was so young still, her lifespan nothing compared to his of over three centuries. He had lived his life and he lived it well and without regrets.

“Go, you’ll be safe, little ‘Soka.”

Reluctantly, the juvenile Togruta crawled through the opening, a pair of gloved hands helping her along the way to avoid the searing metal and any sharp edges

Plo breathed a sigh of relief. There were only a handful of minutes, no more than four if he was being generous, left before the ship exploded. He needed to get back to the pilot's seat to get it out of there before he doomed a few more souls to join the Force with him. He had completed his mission.

Then the plasma saw started at the door again.

“I told you only the girl needed to get out!”

“And I said don’t be stupid!” The man barked. “You’re not leaving that little girl alone. I can’t call myself _Mando’ad_ if I let an _aliit_ get split up just because one of them was being stubborn. We’re getting you out of there, whether you like it or not.” The voice became slightly muffled, like the man had turned away. “Bael,  _get your hairy butt over here_ !”

_Mando’ad_? So they had been grabbed by Mandalorians. Master Yoda had recently perished in Mandalorian space, and, not long before that, Obi-Wan and young Skywalker had been taken as well. No one knew why Master Yoda was in Mandalorian space, nor do they know what happened to Obi-Wan and Anakin, only that they had lost three wonderful members of their family.

The cry of a Wookie drew Plo from his morbid thoughts, drawing his attention to the larger incision in the door that had a pair of furry appendages pulling a large opening into existence. It looked large enough to fit, so Plo went. If they insisted on saving him as well, perhaps he would play along.

Plo went to his knees and began to crawl, but, as soon as his arms were outside the dying ship, he was yanked out and into the arms of Mandalorian. Without a second thought, he yelled, “Everyone get away from the ship, she’s going to blow any second now.”

Repeated by the man holding him in his native tongue, the Mandalorians near the ship quickly grabbed their equipment and scattered, leaving Plo free to blast the time bomb that was his ship out into space with a Force push.

It exploded seconds later, rocking the Mandalorian ship slightly.

“Quite the close call,” Plo remarked to the Mandalorian holding onto him.

His savior was silent, and, while Plo couldn’t see the expression under his helmet, he could wager a guess that it was a shocked one.

“ _Form a marriage bond with me_ .”

Whatever the Mandalorian had said sent the surrounding ones howling with laughter. A few even went to the floor while others pulled their helmets off gasping for air as they laughed at the man. Perhaps it was a joke or an insult, maybe one mocking Plo and his new prisoner of war status.

“ _Do we have another buir now_ ?” One howled.

“ _Riduur for buir_ !”

“ _Clan fett are all for Jedi, hm_ _?_ ”

The man holding him let out a vicious snarl. “ _That's it! You're all with Al'verde Fox now_ !” He let go of Plo and took off his helmet, revealing dark hair, tan skin, and, most notably, a cybernetic eye. “Sorry about these _di’kut’e_ , they’re naturally idiots.” He flushed a little.

Rather than comment, Plo went straight to the point. “I take it my young charge and I are prisoners of war? I only ask that-”

“ _Ka’ra_ ! What is with you _jetiise_ and being prisoners of war? First Kenobi, then the old toad…” The man broke off into an indecipherable mutter.

Old toad?

“Are you implying Master Yoda is alive?”

The man he heard called Buir - he assumed it was a name, but Plo wasn’t too sure - snorted. “Alive and too well. Green troll runs around and makes it his life mission to drive the rest of us insane with his cryptic nonsense. Obi-Wan’s the only one who can keep him under control, and that’s on a _good_ day. My shins still hurt…”

Plo… Plo wasn’t sure what to think. He was grateful to the Mandalorians, they had just saved his and young Ahsoka’s lives, but they were Mandalorians, their enemy that often sided with the Sith in days long gone. To hear this man speak of Knight Kenobi and Master Yoda in good health and without malice was jarring.

Perhaps, it truly was the will of the Force that put them in the path of these Mandalorians. They were meant to go to Mandalore. For what, Plo did not know, but he would in time.

His rumination was interrupted by a familiar signature barreling into his leg, grasping tightly to his robes. He reached down and lifted Ahsoka into his arms.

“That was fun! Let’s do it again!”

“Perhaps not too soon, young one.” He looked back to their saviour and found the man giving him an odd look. “Well, it appears little ‘Soka and I will be accompanying you to Mandalore, Buir-”

Once again, the howling of the crewmates began. There were less than before, many having gone back to their duties now that the majority of the excitement had faded away, but they were as obnoxious as the first time. What had he said? Buir had caused the first bout.

“ _Shut up_ !” He roared.

The room went dead silent.

“ _Get back to work, or Fox is the last thing you’ll be worrying about._ ”

Whatever he had said sent the loitering Mandalorians out in droves, only a few remaining, likely stationed in the hangar. The command presence of the man before him was astounding. It was no wonder they struggled against the Mandalorians more than Sith at times.

“My name’s not ‘Buir’, it’s Wolffe. _Buir_ is _Mando’a_ for parent.”

“My apologies. I heard your crew address you as such and assumed it was your name. A lingual faux pas on my part… unless, they are your children?”

Wolffe sighed, looking tired. “No, my crew is full of assholes. Motherhen a couple shinies one time and suddenly you’re a parent...”

The man waved off whatever thoughts were plaguing him and motioned Plo to follow him. With Ahsoka balanced on his hip, he followed their Mandalorian saviour to the comms room to contact the _Mand’alor_ and inform him of the situation.

They had only waited a few moments, the silence filled with idle chatter between the trio and the occasional input from one of the nearby comms officers, when the call was picked up. The sight before him was not one Plo expected when calling the fearsome _Mand’alor_ of the Mandalorian Empire.

“ _This better be good, Wolffe, because I’m kinda busy at the moment!_ ”

The man in the fuzzy blue of the holocom was juggling two children, both struggling to get out of his grip as the jammed sharp elbows and made noise, one laughing and the other screaming in rage. The smaller of the two children was over the man’s shoulder and pulling on his hair, while the other was pressed to the man’s hip as he twisted and leaned to throw off the man’s balance.

“Got your hands full, _vod_?”

Plo noted the withering glare thrown Wolffe’s way before it changed to surprise.

Releasing both children and ignoring their indignant cries as they hit the ground, the _Mand’alor_ sighed. “ _Not another_.”

“This one has an _adiik_ with him, too.”

It was the sight of Jango Fett rubbing his temples that made Plo feel a semblance of guilt, for what though, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps it was their untimely arrival when the Mandalorian leader was under a great deal of stress. Or maybe it was how they came into Mandalorian custody. Whatever it may be, Plo could not help but feel guilty.

That line of thought was interrupted by who appeared on the holocall next as he berated the _Mand’alor_.

“ _Jango Fett, you did not just drop your own son and another child!_ ” One Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared, looking to be in great health as he lifted a small Mandalorian child into his arms and held one Anakin Skywalker at his side. His attention turned from the man to Plo and bowed. “ _Master Koon, it is good to see you well_.”

“The same can be said for you, young Obi-Wan. Little Ahsoka and I have found ourselves in quite the predicament.”

And he relayed their story thus far to the _Mand’alor_ and Obi-Wan, both men with equally contemplative looks upon their faces.

“ _How would you feel about an early retirement, Master Koon? One where you would spend your days helping younglings and other Force sensitives?_ ” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

It sounded like paradise to the Kel Dor. To longer fight senseless war and watch his brothers and sisters die, to watch lives young and old flicker away in droves. To do the good he, as a Jedi, set out to do when he was first knighted centuries ago. To help others without a care, what a paradise that would be.

“I would like that very much, Obi-Wan.” He watched how the Mandalorian next to Obi-Wan looked at the ginger with something so soft, it would crumble with the slightest breath. It was the same look the man next to him had watched the Kel Dor with.

He wanted to be a little selfish and happy for the first time in a long time.

"I would like that so very much."

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so long to no post? Long story short, I went through some shit this semester (couple family deaths (not covid), got covid (both me and my mom), etc.), and, uh, yeah, I haven't really been writing that much, and I don't want to talk about it either. I'll be honest, I've had this one done since back in mid November (I finished while I was isolation with the 'rona) and didn't post it because I was procrastinating/debating translating most of the Mando'a.
> 
> Anyway, enough about my dumbass, I'm genuinely shocked people are still reading this series. I truly cannot thank you all enough for the support! And, if you're still sticking around after my long absence, I hope this was enjoyable.
> 
> Sorry if the ending is abrupt as well. I wrote most of this back in one go and had a hard time figuring out where to go from a certain point, so I just gave up and went fuck it. This was supposed to be longer with more interaction with Jango and Obi-Wan, but I was so tired and didn't want to kill myself. Hell, this one was supposed to have two chapters: one from Plo and one from Wolffe, but, again, I was tired and refused to kill myself over it.
> 
> I also fell out of the Star Wars fandom a bit (I'm watching The Mandalorian right now, so I might fall back in) and into another, so updates will probably be a lot slower. I really want to finish this series and I will try my best.
> 
> If you got through all that speal, again, thanks for the support. I hope you enjoyed reading and any mistakes you find are mine.


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